TWENTY-ONE #2
“Well,” she managed at last, with composure she considered rather admirable under the circumstances, “you have clearly considered this thoroughly.”
Something very close to a smile crossed his face, again. “I had thirteen days.”
Elizabeth laughed before she could prevent it. Darcy smiled in return too, unguarded.
“Bingley is very eager for the excursion,” Darcy observed after a moment.
Elizabeth glanced toward the set where Jane and Bingley appeared to have forgotten the existence of every other person in the room.
“I can well believe it,” she replied. “And I suspect Jane will prove equally eager.”
“I believe Bingley’s enthusiasm may have very little to do with the scenery.”
Elizabeth’s eyes returned to him. “And yours, Mr. Darcy?” she asked before she had entirely decided to do so. “Is your own interest confined to the paths?”
For the briefest instant, she succeeded in catching him unprepared. His eyes shifted away from hers before returning with visible composure.
“I wished to see the paths,” he replied evenly.
“Of course.”
“And,” he added after a pause just long enough to betray the importance of the admission, “I find I value our conversations more than I had allowed.”
Elizabeth looked toward the set rather than at him.
“Then I suppose,” she said lightly, “I had better make the excursion worthwhile.”
“I have every confidence,” Darcy answered quietly, “that you will.”
Elizabeth looked beyond the dancers and saw her mother waving in her direction with unmistakable purpose.
“I believe,” she said reluctantly, “that my mother has remembered I exist.”
Darcy’s eyes followed hers briefly before returning to her face.
“Then you should go to her.”
Elizabeth laughed softly. “It was a pleasure seeing and speaking with you again, sir.”
For one brief moment neither moved.
Then, with visible reluctance of his own, Darcy inclined his head.
“The pleasure was entirely mine. Good evening, Miss Elizabeth.”
The formality of it felt oddly out of place after everything which had passed between them that night.
“Good evening, Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth walked back toward her mother with composure sufficient to satisfy any observer. Internally, however, she possessed the uncomfortable certainty that the evening had altered something permanently.
* * *
The cold air followed them briefly into the carriage as the Bennet family settled themselves at last for the journey home.
Lydia was still speaking before the door had fully closed, recounting the unfortunate situation of an officer who had apparently engaged himself for the same set to two different ladies, each of whom insisted the claim was hers.
Mrs. Bennet, however, appeared occupied by entirely different concerns.
“I still cannot believe Charlotte Lucas is to marry Mr. Collins,” she declared as the carriage rolled forward at last. “Lady Lucas has looked triumphant all evening long. I shall never hear the end of it.”
“She is very happy, Mama,” Jane observed gently.
Mrs. Bennet turned at once toward Elizabeth. “And whilst all this was taking place, what was my second daughter doing? Certainly not dancing. There were several perfectly respectable gentlemen present this evening, Lizzy, yet after the first set you scarcely left that Mr. Darcy’s side.”
Elizabeth nearly fumbled the fastening of her glove.
“Mama,” Jane murmured softly, though amusement lingered in her voice.
“What?” Mrs. Bennet insisted. “It is perfectly true. She refused Mr. Collins. The least she might do afterwards is dance and socialise rather than stand beside one proud gentleman for nearly an hour.”
“Lizzy appeared sufficiently occupied already,” Mr. Bennet observed mildly from the opposite seat.
Elizabeth looked toward her father at once.
He merely smiled at her over the edge of his spectacles, the expression carrying rather more understanding than she found comfortable. He said nothing further, yet Elizabeth understood perfectly well that he approved of her conduct that evening.
Mrs. Bennet soon continued upon the importance of Elizabeth taking the pursuit of marriage more seriously. She insisted Mr. Bennet ought to speak sense to his daughter lest she remain unmarried and left upon the shelf entirely.
Elizabeth scarcely listened to a word of it.
The warmth lingering low within her chest occupied far more of her attention.
The evening had been a gratifying one. She had seen Mr. Darcy again, spoken with him, received both an apology and a compliment from him, and now they were to undertake excursions together with her father’s full approval. Perhaps thirteen days had been worth enduring after all.
Jane had quietly mentioned whilst leaving Lucas Lodge that Mr. Bingley had spoken to her of the plan and appeared very eager for it. Jane herself seemed equally pleased to come along.
What could be happier than such an arrangement?
Jane and Mr. Bingley... herself and Mr. Darcy...
Elizabeth immediately checked the thought, inwardly reproving her own foolishness. Mr. Darcy valued their conversations and sought her company. That alone was significant enough without permitting herself to build castles from it.
When Elizabeth at last returned her attention fully to the carriage, Lydia and Kitty had somehow progressed to arguing over which of them would appear handsomer in a wedding gown.
Elizabeth did not trouble herself to join the discussion.